


Pray the Gay Away

by bortzy



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Denial of Feelings, Emotionally Repressed, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 01:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bortzy/pseuds/bortzy
Summary: Yoosung's life is predictable and stable, just the way he likes it. That is until a certain frustrating redhead turns it upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ohhh boy this was fun to write. I've never structured a fic like this before
> 
> also just as a warning: there's sexual content in this fic. Yoosung's 16 and Saeran's 17, which is above the age of consent in Korea and the UK (where I'm from) so there's no reason for me to tag it as underage. BUT I know in some places the age of consent is higher, so I just thought I'd mention it in case it makes anyone uncomfortable.
> 
> and... uh......... my knowledge of all the religious stuff comes from going to a CofE school in England, not a Catholic school in Korea so sorry if it's glaringly obvious I don't know what I'm talking about

Yoosung is content with his life. He goes to one of the best high schools in the country where he’s a reliable straight-A student and an active member of the school community. He signs up for any extra-curricular club he can fit into his schedule which currently includes the school choir, orchestra, tennis, drama club and, of course, the school council. It was an honour for Yoosung to be elected as school council representative for his class, especially at a school like this. His closest friends are those who are also on the council, but he finds he gets along with just about anyone. He’s bright and bubbly and easy to like.

He sits in his history class, trying his best to pay attention. History is the most challenging subject for him, so he doesn’t want to lose focus at all if he can help it.

But it’s so _boring_. Even being the good and dedicated student he is, Yoosung’s attention starts wandering elsewhere. He finds himself gazing out the window. The history block has a pretty view of the school field and tennis courts, and it’s a nice day today so Yoosung watches the white, fluffy clouds drift across the sky for a while. He feels peaceful.

Then the door slams open and he almost jumps out his skin. It’s Mr Lee from the geography department, and his face is red with anger.

“I apologise to interrupt like this, Mr Yu, but Choi is misbehaving again.”

Mr Lee is not the kind of teacher anyone wants to cross, so the fact someone might misbehave in his class strikes Yoosung as outrageous. Mr Yu sighs and gestures to an empty seat in the front corner of the room. “Choi, sit here until the end of class.”

In walks a sulky looking boy who Yoosung’s not sure he’s ever seen before. He must be in a different year to him because Yoosung’s fairly certain he knows everyone in his own year. Or maybe he’s new. He has red, shaggy hair which is so long it falls into his green eyes in a way that looks incredibly annoying. He also has his ears pierced and is wearing eyeliner, which almost makes Yoosung audibly gasp because that _must_ be against the rules.

The boy doesn’t even have the decency to acknowledge Mr Yu as he walks over to the seat, flopping down ungracefully with his legs stretched out in front of him. It looks like he has an attitude problem.

“Don’t speak,” Mr Lee orders as he closes the door behind him.

It takes a few moments of awkward silence before the class gets going again, but now Yoosung can’t focus at all. To him there is no greater punishment than being sent out of class, but this boy doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Yoosung almost gasps again when he sees that his nails are painted black. That’s _definitely_ against the rules. What kind of kid is this? Does he not understand how lucky he is to be able to go to this school in the first place?

The boy doesn’t speak throughout the whole class, just sitting there with his arms folded and staring out the window. Yoosung tries to focus back on Mr Yu and what he’s saying, ignoring how painfully aware he is of the redhead in the corner. This boy is unimportant in the grand scheme of things. It’s not like he’ll ever see him again.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, he sees him the following day. It’s lunchtime and Yoosung’s been sent to get some tennis equipment from the sports barn. As he turns the corner to get to the door he sees the red-haired boy leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette hanging out his mouth as he taps on his phone.

“Hey! You can’t smoke on school property,” Yoosung says, frowning and trying to look stern and intimidating as he walks up to him. Luckily he’s not too much shorter than him. The boy’s green eyes flick up from his phone to look at him and he raises his eyebrows in amusement.

“Yeah? Who’s stopping me?”

Yoosung’s stumped for a moment, partly because he hadn’t expected such a melodic voice, and partly because he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“I am. I’m on the school council.”

“That’s cute.” The boy turns his head and blows some smoke into the air. At least he had the decency to blow it away from Yoosung.

“I’m serious! You need to stop that,” Yoosung says in frustration. “I’ll report you!”

“I don’t care,” he says, cocking his head to the side and slowly looking Yoosung up and down.

“What’s your name?” Yoosung demands. He means it. He’s going to report him if he keeps being rude like this. The boy pauses, as though considering whether to tell him the truth.

“Saeran Choi,” he finally answers as he drops the cigarette and steps on it to put it out. “There, I’ve stopped. Happy?”

Yoosung looks at him triumphantly. “Yes. And if I catch you doing something like that again, I’ll report you for real. I mean it.”

“Okay, sure. I wouldn’t mind getting turned in by someone as cute as you,” Saeran says, his voice suddenly suggestive. Yoosung blinks in surprise.

“You know, you go to one of the best schools in the country. You should be a little more grateful.”

“Right. See you around, cutie,” Saeran says, pushing himself away from the wall and shooting a wink at Yoosung as he brushes past him.

Yoosung just stands there for a moment. What a strange kid. What on earth was all that about? Yoosung blinks and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He has tennis rackets to collect.

 

* * *

 

Because Yoosung’s a part of the school choir, whenever there’s a Eucharist at the nearby cathedral he’s up at the front with the priest and rest of the choir while all the other students stare boredly into the distance.

Everyone always talks about how tedious the Eucharists are, but Yoosung loves them. For him, it’s one of the perks to going to a Catholic school. He really loves the hymns and how extravagant and beautiful the cathedral is.

As all the students settle into their seats, Yoosung spots a head of red hair and feels his pulse jump a little. Is that Saeran? He wouldn’t misbehave in the cathedral, would he?

Wait, there are two redheads. One is Saeran, and the other is a boy who looks almost exactly like Saeran but has gold eyes and is wearing glasses. Oh no, he’s a _twin_? Is Saeran’s twin just as bad as Saeran? Perhaps he’s a good student to make up for his brother. It’s difficult to tell without meeting him. They’re sitting on the pews behind Yoosung’s year group, meaning they’re a year older, but honestly Yoosung’s surprised he’s never seen them before. They’re not exactly easy to miss.

After a few seconds, Saeran catches his eyes and smirks at him before Yoosung has the chance to look away. Yoosung shoots him a quick frown before turning to look at a boy in the year below him who’s about to do a reading from the Bible. He tries to focus, but for some reason his head is spinning and he can’t stop thinking about Saeran. He’s so curious about him for a reason he can’t quite pinpoint. He’s never met anyone so outwardly rebellious before.

He chances another look towards him, and a split second later Saeran looks at him too and their eyes meet. Saeran smirks again and winks at him, and Yoosung feels his face heat up in frustration. He’s so cocky and annoying. He looks back to the priest who’s now leading them in prayer. Yoosung needs to focus now, because the choir’s first song is after this and he wants to do his best. He doesn’t have a solo in this song, but he does in the one after it.

Yoosung manages to avoid looking at Saeran for the entire song, but his eyes flick to him once it’s over. Saeran’s sitting there with his arms folded, a weird, amused look on his face that makes Yoosung’s blood boil. Why is he making him so angry? Yoosung’s not sure he’s ever had anyone draw such an emotional response from him just by looking at him, so he fixes his eyes on a spot on the wall so he’s not looking at anyone. He’s determined not to let Saeran keep bothering him.

The choir begin the next song, and Yoosung sings his two solo lines without mistake. He’s proud of himself! He can’t help but smile, but his eyes stay fixed on the wall. He does _not_ need to look at Saeran right now.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung all but forgets about Saeran for the next week. He’s not sent into their class again, and Yoosung wouldn’t normally see him otherwise. During assemblies the older years sit behind the younger ones, so Yoosung has no chance of spotting him without turning around and being painfully obvious.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t exactly _forget_ about him, but he didn’t see him so that’s good.

There’s a school council meeting at the end of every Tuesday, and Yoosung’s the last to leave. He breathes out a heavy sigh as he packs his notebook into his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. Even the teachers are eager to leave at this time of day, so Yoosung walks down the empty corridors to the closest exit. He pushes the door, but it doesn’t open. He groans and wiggles the door handle, but it won’t budge. Ugh, the front doors have already been locked. Oh well, it’s not a problem. This happens sometimes. It just means he’ll need to leave the back way.

He reaches the back door after a few minutes and pushes it open. He doesn’t like this exit as much because it leads into an ugly, bricked passageway before reaching the courtyard, and where there’s an ugly brick wall, there’s vandalism. There’s graffiti of all sorts on the walls, and Yoosung does his best to ignore the crude things written and drawn there as he walks past it.

What he didn’t anticipate, however, is that he might find someone there. Someone with bright red hair.

“Hey! You can’t deface school property like that!” Yoosung squeaks, and Saeran’s head snaps up to look at him. He’s kneeling down and spraying something onto the wall with black spray-paint, eyes wide and body tense, ready to run. But when he sees it’s Yoosung, he relaxes.

“Oh, it’s you again. Hi.”

“ _Hi?!_ Is that all you have to say to me? I said I’d report you if I caught-”

Yoosung’s cut off by a loud crashing noise that sounds like bins being moved around just round the corner, and both boys freeze for a second.

“Shit,” Saeran whispers, jumping to his feet and shoving the can in his shoulder bag. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Come _on_.” Saeran grabs Yoosung’s wrist and drags him as he runs back into the school building before Yoosung can protest.

“Wait, Saeran-”

“Shh!” he hisses. “We’ll get caught.”

We? _We’ll_ get caught? But Yoosung didn’t do anything wrong! If he gets in trouble for this he’s never going to forgive Saeran. His heart is pounding and he feels like he might be on the verge of panicking as his legs carry him along behind Saeran. There’s no way he should be getting involved in this.

Saeran runs through an open door and tugs Yoosung inside, quickly yanking it shut behind them.

It’s dark in here, and as soon as Yoosung’s in the small room he trips over something.

“Saeran, if you-”

“I said _shh_.” Before Yoosung knows what’s happening, there’s a hand pressed against his mouth and his back’s flat against a wall. Saeran tugs on a cord to turn on the light, and Yoosung’s eyes flick around in panic. They’re in what looks like a storage closet, and what Yoosung had tripped over had been a plastic bucket.

Even though it’s a small room, Saeran’s pressed closer than he probably needs to be to keep Yoosung quiet. Their chests are touching, and Saeran’s eyes are so close that Yoosung can see there’s a weird ring around the pupil. It’s kind of cool, actually.

“We’re in the caretaker’s closet. If I take my hand off your mouth will you be quiet?” Saeran whispers so quietly Yoosung almost doesn’t hear him. He nods, and Saeran lowers his hand. Yoosung immediately turns his head to look at the door.

“Why did you pull me with you?” he whispers.

“So you don’t get in trouble.”

“But I wouldn’t have anyway! I did nothing wrong!” Yoosung protests, voice a little louder. Saeran presses a hand against his mouth again.

“Shut up. And yes, you would have. That was the caretaker. You haven’t met him before, have you?” Saeran asks. Yoosung shakes his head. “Exactly. He’s a cunt.”

Yoosung gasps and feels his knees buckle a little underneath him. He probably would have fallen over if Saeran weren’t pretty much holding him place. He’s never heard that word spoken out loud before. Only written on the graffiti wall outside. To his surprise, Saeran smirks at his reaction.

“Wow. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” he whispers, and Yoosung feels his face get warm. How did he even get in this position? There’s no need for him to be here. “I bet you’ve never sworn in your life.” Yoosung shakes his head, and Saeran slowly lowers his hand, grinning at him. “Say fuck.”

“What? No,” Yoosung squeaks.

“Come on, that’s an easy one. Just say fuck.”

“No!”

“Okay, then say damn.”

Yoosung frowns. He’s said that before. Sure, he’s Catholic, but he's not the kind that thinks words mean he's going to hell. Not swearing is simply a personal choice.

“Damn,” Yoosung says, tilting his head to the side as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“Say God damn.”

“God damn.”

“Now say fuck.”

“No!”

“Come on. Just once. I want to hear you say it.” This seems to be like a game to Saeran.

“I don’t want to!” Yoosung protests, letting his voice get a little louder. Saeran doesn’t press his hand over his mouth this time, and Yoosung’s weirdly disappointed.

“Okay, then say shit.”

“No. I’m not swearing,” Yoosung huffs, frowning. He would fold his arms if they weren’t pressed so close together. How long are they even supposed to stay like this? How do they even know when the caretaker’s gone?

Wait a second.

“Wait, if we’re in the caretaker’s closet, won’t he come in here?”

Saeran nods. “Yeah, but he has the whole school to clean first. I say we wait it out a little longer.”

“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” Yoosung says, voice getting whiny. “You dragged me along with you for no reason!”

“Maybe I did have a reason,” Saeran says, raising his eyebrows at Yoosung.

“Huh? What?” What’s he trying to say?

“Who wouldn’t want to be pressed so close to someone so cute?” he says, grinning mischievously at Yoosung. Yoosung’s eyes widen.

“What?! But I’m a boy!”

“So am I. So is everyone in this school. Pretty cool, don’t you think?” Saeran says casually.

“B-but… what are you saying?!” Yoosung squeaks, and this time it’s loud enough for Saeran to press his hand to his mouth again.

“You still need to be quiet, cutie,” Saeran whispers. Yoosung grabs hold of Saeran’s wrist and pulls it away from him.

“My name is _Yoosung_ ,” he huffs, pushing Saeran just far enough away so he can reach the door handle and shove the door open.

“Wait!” Saeran yelps, but Yoosung’s already storming away. The coast is clear. The caretaker is nowhere to be seen.

Yoosung’s half expecting Saeran to follow him, but he doesn’t. Oh well. Good riddance. How dare he try and make Yoosung swear and then call him cute?! He’s so patronising. He’s only the year above Yoosung, so it’s not like he’s even that much older. God, he’s so frustrating.

Yoosung reaches the graffiti walls again, and his eyes stray to where Saeran had been kneeling. He can’t deny that he’s curious about what he was writing or drawing there. Maybe it’ll explain something about him.

The only thing he sees in black spray paint is an eye with unfinished swirls underneath. What does that even mean?

Disappointed, Yoosung heads home. He hopes he never has to see Saeran Choi again.

 

* * *

 

Even if Yoosung never has to see Saeran again, he can’t damn well stop thinking about him. His chest had felt so solid pressed up against his, and Yoosung had found his mind wandering during maths as to whether or not he works out. He’s pretty skinny. That much is obvious by the way the school blazer hangs off him, but Yoosung has a sneaking suspicion he has a good body. But why is he thinking about this?? Why does he care whether Saeran works out or what his body looks like?

He keeps thinking about his hand too. How it pressed against his mouth to keep him quiet, and how it had made Yoosung’s stomach squirm in a way that wasn’t entirely bad. The way he called him cutie. Even the way he sounds when he swears. There’s something about him that draws Yoosung in, and he can’t figure out what it is. He just really hopes he doesn’t see him again so he can push these thoughts away and forget about them.

As it turns out, Saeran doesn’t plan on letting that happen.

The next time Yoosung walks into a choir rehearsal he’s presented with Saeran sitting there, arms folded and legs stretched out in front of him.

“What are _you_ doing here?!” Yoosung squeaks in surprise, earning himself some odd looks from the other boys. Saeran looks up at him and grins lazily.

“Same as you, I expect.”

“But I’m here for choir practice.”

“Yeah. So am I.”

“ _You?!_ ” Yoosung exclaims. He can feel his anger bubbling up inside him again. Saeran blows a strand of his stupid hair out his eyes, still grinning.

“Turns out I can carry a note, huh. Who knew?”

Yoosung closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. _Don’t let him get to you. He’s doing this on purpose._

Although… he hasn’t actually _done_ anything that should particularly anger Yoosung. He hasn’t directed any of his behaviour at him, other than trying to save him from the caretaker. He hasn’t been outright rude, and somehow that makes it even more frustrating. Yoosung _knows_ he’s only here to annoy him, but there’s nothing he can do to prove it.

“Congratulations,” Yoosung says smoothly, opening his eyes again and striding past him to sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the room. He doesn’t miss Saeran’s infuriating chuckle as he passes him.

Yoosung makes a point of avoiding looking at Saeran throughout practice. He can’t help but feel like Saeran’s constantly watching him, but that’s probably not true. He’s kind of curious to hear his singing voice, because this choir isn’t exactly easy to get into. He must have auditioned last week, and considering they’re already halfway through the school year he’s got to be pretty good to have been able to get a place. Yoosung knows a lot of decent singers who got rejected from this choir. It’s very competitive.

Is Saeran one of those kids who’s super smart and talented, but messes around all the time? Those annoying ones who always get top grades without even trying. Yoosung wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice they’ve been dismissed until everyone else is already standing up. He jumps to his feet and rushes out the room as quickly as he can. Even if he can’t avoid Saeran entirely, he can ignore him when he does have to see him. Eventually he’ll get bored and go pester someone else.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung’s only sixteen, but he has to admit he feels like he’s missed out on a lot of things life has to offer. For example, dating. Going to an all-boys school makes it difficult to meet girls for obvious reasons. The only girls he really knows are his older sister’s friends, and he’s not particularly interested in them. He supposes eventually he’ll find someone he wants to be with, but having to wait is frustrating.

His mind wanders to Saeran, and he rolls onto his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. When they’d been in the closet he’d given Yoosung the impression that perhaps he’s interested in boys in the way he’s supposed to be interested in girls. The thought makes Yoosung shiver. He’s never met a homosexual before, but he knows it’s supposed to be a sin. Maybe Saeran’s just doing it to rebel? Maybe he’s not homosexual and he’s just saying those things to get a reaction out of Yoosung. Well, Yoosung won’t bite.

He thinks about the closet and being pressed so close to Saeran. He remembers that strange ring in his eyes that make them different to any eyes Yoosung’s seen before. He thinks about the pounding of his heart in his ribcage as Saeran’s chest rose and fell gently along with his breathing. He thinks about how he’d called him ‘cute’ and ‘good boy’.

Yoosung knows masturbation is a sin, but that night he can’t stop himself.

 

* * *

 

The overwhelming guilt Yoosung feels the next day is almost too much to handle. He nearly pretends to be sick to stay off school, but that would sabotage his perfect attendance and he is _not_ letting Saeran Choi ruin his life any further.

The only time he’ll absolutely have to see him is during choir practice, and chances are Saeran will get kicked out of that. He can’t imagine someone like him bothering to show up more than two weeks running, anyway. And if Yoosung keeps ignoring him he’ll get bored.

Yoosung doesn’t sit with his usual group of friends at lunchtime. His head is too busy, and he excuses himself under the pretence of feeling sick so he can go outside and clear his head a little.

He doesn’t realise where he’s walking until he’s reaching the corner. He’s by the sports barn, right where he’d first spoken to Saeran and threatened to report him for smoking on school property. He can’t seem to get him out of his head.

It’s almost like déjà vu as he turns the corner. Saeran’s there, in the exact same position as the first time, leaning against the wall with his phone in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. Yoosung freezes, not sure what to do.

“What are you doing here?” he squeaks as though Saeran had been the one interrupting _his_ lunch break. Saeran looks up at him in surprise and then his face morphs into a neutral expression.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. No smoking. Got it.” He drops his cigarette on the floor and steps on it like last time.

“No, I mean what are you _doing_ here?” Yoosung asks in frustration as Saeran walks closer to him. A frown forms on his face.

“This is where I usually hang out at lunch.”

“No! I mean in this school! Why are you _here_?” Yoosung knows he’s getting hysterical, but he can’t help it. This boy frustrates him too much.

“…because it’s required by law to go to school?” Saeran answers slowly, as though Yoosung’s an idiot. Before Yoosung knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed Saeran’s shirt and pinned him against the wall.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Yoosung snaps. “Why the hell are you here if you don’t even care? This is an amazing school and it doesn’t need people like _you_ dragging it down.”

To his utter frustration, Saeran smirks.

“I’m Catholic.”

“Yeah? But why _here_? There are other Catholic schools you can go to.”

“Listen, Yoosung, I don’t know what you’re hoping to hear from me,” Saeran says, gently taking hold of Yoosung’s wrist and trying to pull it away. That’s the first time he’s ever said Yoosung’s name, and it makes his entire body feel like it’s burning with anger. “I’m here because I have to be, same as anyone else.”

“I wish you would _go away._ ”

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. One minute he’s shouting into Saeran’s bewildered face, unbelievably angry that someone could possibly be so _ungrateful_ , and the next he’s smashed their lips together, desperate to taste him. Saeran’s clearly surprised too, considering how he tenses up at first, but he quickly takes it in his stride and grips hold of Yoosung’s waist to tug him closer. Yoosung finds himself melting into him without even realising. His heart is hammering in his chest as he clutches Saeran’s shirt more tightly, and he can feel his anger at this stupid boy finally exploding and releasing itself by pressing their lips together as hard as he can. After a few moments Saeran’s mouth teases Yoosung’s open, and Yoosung willingly allows it, feeling his hot breath make its way into his mouth. It’s not until their tongues slide together that something flashes through Yoosung’s mind and he jerks away like he’s been burned.

He stumbles back a few steps, looking at Saeran in confusion as the shock settles in. What just happened? He brings his sleeve up to his swollen lips and wipes them slowly. Saeran had tasted like cigarettes, but strangely it hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.

Yoosung keeps stepping backwards, not speaking, and for once Saeran doesn’t have that stupid smug expression on his face.

Yoosung doesn’t even bother saying anything as he spins on his heel and runs back the way he came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is already written so it should be out soon! it just needs editing first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really fun to write and I almost don't want it to end, but here you go!

His first kiss. His first actual kiss and it was with a _boy_.

Yoosung can’t wrap his head around it. Why had he kissed Saeran so suddenly? What is it about his lips that Yoosung can’t seem to stop thinking about?

Saeran planted the idea in his head. He must have done. Yeah, when he’d told Yoosung he was cute and that it was ‘cool’ that they went to an all-boys school. It’s all a mind game. He’s manipulating Yoosung into thinking about things he’d never considered before.

Yoosung kneels by the side of his bed and clamps his hands together.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he whispers, lips pressed against his hands, trying to forget about how good Saeran’s had felt against them. God already knows his sins. He should really be going to confession for this, but he’s not sure he can face another human being right now, even a priest. “I kissed a boy, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I… I want to do it again. Why do I want to do it again? Why would any boy ever want to kiss another boy? It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, but I… I’m so confused. Is this just because I’m lonely? Is it the Devil sent to tempt me? I never wanted to get involved in corruption. I just want to be good.” His mind flashes with the memory Saeran calling him a ‘good boy’ when they were pressed so close together, and he screws his eyes shut guiltily. “And I… I touched myself while thinking about him. I’ve committed two sins in two days because of him. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Please, God, if you’re listening, help me. Give me guidance. Show me how I can stay good.” He inhales deeply. “Amen.”

Yoosung sighs and unclasps his hands, folding his arms on the bed and leaning on them heavily. He feels a little better now that some of the weight’s off his shoulders, but he still feels undeniably guilty. It’s not even entirely for the reasons he would expect. Of course he feels guilty because he kissed another boy, and homosexuality is a sin which means Yoosung has sinned. And he feels guilty because he masturbated to the thought of a boy, which must be some kind of double sin. But he also feels guilty for just leaving Saeran afterwards. He’d looked so surprised and so… hopeful? Or is that just wishful thinking? Yoosung hadn’t even spoken to him afterwards. People never forget their first kiss, and his consisted of him yelling, kissing, and then running away, terrified of the implications. Does it even count as a first kiss, or do first kisses only count if they’re with women?

Yoosung climbs into bed and buries his head in his pillow. What is Saeran _doing_ to him?

 

* * *

  

Yoosung’s not himself the next week, and people start noticing. He skips choir practice – something he _never_ does – and spends most of his free time kneeling in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary. She comforts him. She has kind eyes and a soft face, and she’s in a fairly secluded area, behind one of the school buildings and away from prying eyes. Yoosung feels both exhausted and wired at the same time. He can’t stop twitching, which makes him jump even more than usual when someone behind him speaks.

“Yoosung?”

Yoosung shoots to his feet and spins around, heart pounding so hard he feels like he might pass out.

“Saeran,” he croaks. Saeran looks genuinely surprised to find him there, and Yoosung’s surprised he’s here too. He’d never considered Saeran might _actually_ be a good Catholic.

“Are you okay?” Saeran asks, voice slow as though testing the reactions of a wild animal before approaching it.

“Yes,” Yoosung answers a little too quickly. “Never better. You?”

“I’m… Yoosung, do you want to talk about this?” Every time Saeran says his name it makes his stomach flip.

“Now?” he squeaks. Saeran glances around them and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Good a time as any. People don’t usually come here at this time of day.”

“Then why are _you_ here?” Yoosung says, voice weirdly aggressive. Then he clutches his hair and hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you always make me so angry.”

Saeran doesn’t respond for a moment, and when he does he’s standing closer than he was before.

“Are you sure you don’t know?” he asks, some of the usual snark leaking into his voice. Yoosung doesn’t even know if it’s intentional or if it’s just Saeran’s natural state. Either way, Yoosung snaps his head up to glare at him.

“I know I kissed you, okay? I’m sorry. It didn’t _mean_ anything, I was just so angry with you,” Yoosung tries to explain, but it sounds pathetic, even to him.

“Do you kiss everyone you get angry with?” Saeran asks, cocking his head to the side a little and giving Yoosung a crooked half-smile that makes his heart skip. _God_ , why is he reacting like this to him?

“ _No_. I just… I don’t know. You put the idea in my head when we were in the closet, and now I’ve done it so it’s over. We don’t even need to discuss it.”

“I never mentioned kissing.”

“I know. But you… called me cute. And you said I was a good boy…” Yoosung says lamely, trailing off. Saeran raises his eyebrows.

“A good boy? Do you like being called that?”

Yoosung’s stomach flips again and he shifts on his feet. He refuses to admit he does.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done now and we don’t have to speak to each other again, okay?”

“You know if you repress these feelings they just get worse?” Saeran says casually. Yoosung frowns, glaring at him.

“What feelings?”

Saeran steps closer. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t have _feelings_ for you. You’re a _guy_.”

“You kissed me, Yoosung,” Saeran points out. “And I’ve seen how flustered you get around me.” Flustered? When has Yoosung ever been flustered around him?!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoosung says stubbornly, folding his arms.

“You do. I know you do. I’ve been in the same position as you,” Saeran says. He genuinely sounds like he’s trying to help, but Yoosung refuses to accept what he’s saying.

“Are you a homosexual?” Yoosung asks through gritted teeth, and Saeran flinches a little.

“I’m gay, yes.”

Yoosung sucks in a sharp breath. So not only did he kiss a guy, but a _homosexual_ guy. Is that considered more of a sin? Yoosung doesn’t know. Saeran sighs in exasperation.

“Listen, I know what you’re going through. I’ve been through the whole denial stage, and it’s-”

“ _Denial?_ I’m not denying anything! I’m not gay!” Yoosung insists, raising his voice. Saeran holds his hands up.

“Okay. I never said you were. But I’m just _saying_ that most straight guys don’t get angry and kiss other guys.”

Yoosung can feel it. The anger bubbling up inside him again. What is it about Saeran that manages to get this kind of response out of him? What is it about Saeran that’s so… _ugh._

Yoosung grabs hold of him again, similar to last week and smashes their lips together. It’s partly to shut him up, partly to taste him again, and partly to prove to himself that it’s not as great as he remembers.

One problem: it’s better.

Saeran’s hands don’t find their way to his waist this time, and he doesn’t kiss back either. Yoosung pulls away in frustration.

“Kiss me,” he demands, and Saeran smirks a little.

“I thought you weren’t gay.”

“I hate you.”

Yoosung smashes their lips together again, and this time Saeran responds. He spins them round so Yoosung’s pressed against the side of the building, hands gripping his hips tightly as he pushes his tongue into Yoosung’s mouth. He doesn’t taste of cigarettes this time. He tastes of soft mints and ice cream, a taste so contradictory to his appearance it takes Yoosung by surprise. He keeps kissing him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and sliding their tongues together.

At some point Saeran’s leg presses between Yoosung’s, and Yoosung whimpers as it brushes against something no one else is supposed to touch until marriage. But right now logic is thrown out the window and he grinds against Saeran’s leg, causing Saeran’s hands to slide round behind him and grip hold of his butt. He squeezes and Yoosung feels a jolt of pleasure shoot through him.

Maybe he just needs to let it all out. Maybe he needs to experience this fully before he can get over it and move on. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he pulls breathlessly out of the kiss.

“Touch me.”

Saeran’s panting heavily against his lips and it’s driving Yoosung crazy.

“Really?” he breathes. Yoosung nods and grinds against his leg desperately.

“Yes.”

Saeran’s hands slide around to Yoosung’s front and grab hold of Yoosung’s dick through his clothes. Yoosung lets out a moan, and Saeran quickly kisses him again to muffle it. He pulls back after a moment.

“Remember, good boys don’t make noise,” Saeran whispers, leaning close to Yoosung’s ear and nipping it. His breath is hot against his skin and Yoosung’s entire body feels like it’s burning. Saeran starts fumbling with the button of Yoosung’s school trousers, eventually popping it open and undoing the zipper. He brings his free hand up to tug Yoosung’s collar aside and bites down on his neck. Yoosung buries his face in Saeran shoulder to muffle his moan as he does.

He can’t think right now. His head is filled with the intoxicating scent of _Saeran,_ and he wants nothing more than to be as close to him as he can get.

Without warning Saeran shoves his hand down Yoosung’s boxers and grips hold of his dick, and Yoosung bites down on a mouthful of Saeran’s blazer to muffle his moans. There’s not much else he can do right now. No one else has ever touched Yoosung like this, and _God_ it feels so good.

“F-fuck,” he moans as Saeran starts pumping his hand, and he feels Saeran grin against the skin of his neck.

“Guess I know how to make you swear now,” he mumbles hotly, and Yoosung feels that same anger bubble up inside him. Only now he knows his anger wasn’t really anger, and his frustration wasn’t really because Saeran was annoying. He wants him. He’s never wanted anyone more. And it makes him feel both disgusting and free at the same time.

“I hate you,” Yoosung tries to snap, but it comes out a whimper as Saeran moves his hand up and down Yoosung’s dick. This feels so good. Yoosung can already feel himself coming undone.

“I don’t think you do,” Saeran breathes before biting down on Yoosung’s neck again, and Yoosung buries his face into Saeran’s blazer to stop himself crying out. Saeran sucks hard on the skin, and he knows Saeran can hear his moans and whimpers but right now all he can focus on is the feeling of his hand on him, seeming to know _exactly_ what to do to make Yoosung feel good.

Yoosung’s moans get louder and he presses his face harder into Saeran’s shoulder. Saeran seems to sense he’s getting close, because his strokes speed up until Yoosung feels it finally wash over him. He cries out, entire body shuddering and shaking. If he weren’t pressed so firmly against this wall he might fall over. He doesn’t know when his hands made their way up to tangle in Saeran’s hair, but now they’re tugging at it in desperation and pleasure as he cums hard into Saeran’s hand.

Saeran gradually slows his hand and Yoosung collapses against him, dropping his arms loosely over his shoulders. He feels an odd sense of peace, and he can’t seem to bring himself to worry about what all this means for him. Saeran pulls his hand from Yoosung’s boxers and zips and buttons his trousers back up with his clean hand.

“I don’t hate you,” Yoosung whispers, and Saeran chuckles.

“That’s good to know.”

“Have you done that before?” he asks. He can’t seem to speak louder than this right now. Like as soon as he does, the moment will shatter and he’ll have to face what they just did. Saeran doesn’t answer straight away.

“Yeah. Not with anyone who sounds so hot when they’re cumming, though.” Yoosung feels his face burn, but it’s not in a bad way.

“You’re good at it,” Yoosung comments, earning himself another soft chuckle. “How many times?”

“A few.”

“People at this school?” he asks curiously.

“Yeah.”

“How? This is a Catholic school,” Yoosung points out, pulling back to look at Saeran’s face properly. Is he jealous? He thinks he might be.

“You’d be surprised how many repressed, curious guys there are here,” Saeran says casually, a grin on his face. Yoosung frowns. He doesn’t like that.

“Is that all I am to you?” Yoosung asks in a small voice, letting his arms drop back to his sides.

“What? Yoosung, I-”

“You know what, no. I don’t want to know.” Yoosung pushes Saeran away a little, ignoring the mess in his hand. _Yoosung’s_ mess. “Let’s just… pretend this never happened.”

Saeran looks at him in mild amusement. God, he’s so frustrating!

“You sure you can forget?”

“Shut up,” Yoosung mumbles, pushing past him to leave.

He hears Saeran chuckle as he steps out into the courtyard, and he swears he can feel the eyes of the Virgin Mary burning into his back as he leaves.

 

* * *

 

The guilt is not as strong as Yoosung expected it to be, but the frustration and annoyance that he gave in to the temptation is almost too much to handle. He let Saeran win. He let Saeran… _touch_ him like that.

The guilt is still there. Of course it is, but the act meant nothing, right? It was insignificant.

At least that’s what Yoosung’s trying to tell himself so he doesn’t panic.

Saeran’s still as cocky as ever, and Yoosung can’t even bring himself to look at him anymore. The shame is too much. This boy… this stupid, frustrating, annoying boy turned his life upside down in the course of just a few weeks.

So of course that means he has to annoy Yoosung even further by sitting right next to him during choir practice.

Yoosung grits his teeth and keeps his eyes purposefully glued to the front. Their little… incident happened three days ago, and Yoosung hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that there was more to it than just getting the ‘full experience’.

“There’s something on your neck,” Saeran comments, tapping a spot just above Yoosung’s collar. The touch sends a shiver through Yoosung, but he supresses it and pulls his collar up over the bruise that appeared there after Saeran bit him. He hates that he doesn’t entirely hate it, and he hates that Saeran is treating this all so casually. Like it’s something he does all the time.

It probably is. And now Yoosung’s just another name on the long list of boys Saeran’s managed to corrupt.

“No thanks to you,” he grumbles. He knows he really shouldn’t be responding to this, but there’s something in him that refuses to let him take this lying down. Saeran laughs.

“Hey, I had fun, y’know,” he says, leaning closer, voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Leave me alone,” Yoosung says, but there’s not bite in his voice. He barely even knows what he’s feeling right now. Saeran shrugs and leans away from him.

“Whatever you say, cutie.”

He hates him. He really, really hates him.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a week and the guilt is finally starting to set in. Yoosung can’t focus in lessons. He’s been crying himself to sleep and waking throughout the night, only to cry himself back to sleep again. He feels awful. His eyes are raw and aching and he can barely even bring himself to look in the mirror. He’s disgusting. He did something he can never, ever take back, and he _liked_ it. He’d wanted it. He’d asked for it. Maybe he could’ve made an excuse if Saeran had initiated it, but no. Yoosung had been the one to kiss him and then ask to be touched. There’s no loophole here. Yoosung’s forced to take responsibility for his sins.

He can’t even bring himself to pray. He’s scared that even God finds him disgusting.

Yoosung can’t focus on this biology lesson, so he raises his hand and asks if he can go to the toilet. He just needs to walk around a bit. To wash his face and exercise his exhausted body to kick himself into gear again.

He reaches the toilets and heads straight for the sinks, splashing water on his face to try and cool himself down. He looks at himself in the mirror. He’s a mess. His brown hair is sticking up all over the pace, and his purple eyes look so tired it almost hurts to look at them. He can maybe get some clips for his hair, but there’s nothing he can do about his eyes. Or his blotchy skin.

Suddenly he hears a noise from one of the stalls and he freezes. He hadn’t realised someone else was in here. He should leave quickly.

Yoosung shuts off the water and starts walking towards the door until he hears a noise again. It doesn’t sound… normal. It almost sounds like crying. Yoosung frowns and steps toward the stall it’s coming from, listening for any more sounds.

He can hear ragged breathing and quiet whimpering. Desperate attempts to draw air. Someone’s crying in there. As a member of the school council he should make sure they’re okay and that they’re not hurt, but as Yoosung Kim he doesn’t know what to do. Any decent person would call out and ask if they’re okay, respecting their privacy while offering help, but Yoosung isn’t a decent person. Not anymore.

That’s why he pushes the stall door open instead.

He’s shocked at the sight. A skinny, shaking boy curled up and sitting on the closed toilet seat, red hair falling over his knees as he buries his face into them.

“Saeran,” Yoosung says in mild shock, stepping closer. Saeran’s head snaps up to look at him, and the sight is heart-breaking. His eyes are swollen and he has tears and snot running down his face. His hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he’s shaking so violently it’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen to the floor.

“Don’t make me go back there,” Saeran whispers brokenly, so desperate and sad that Yoosung can’t help but fall to his knees in front of him, placing his hands gently on his shoulders.

“It’s okay. Saeran, what’s wrong?” Yoosung asks in his softest, most soothing voice, trying to hide the mild panic building up inside him.

“D-don’t make me go b-back,” Saeran whimpers, burying his face back into his knees. “Sh-she’ll just… h-hurt me again.”

What is he talking about? What’s going on? Yoosung doesn’t know what to do, so he wraps his arms around Saeran and holds him tightly. He strokes his hair gently with his hand, almost on instinct, and tries to make his voice as calm and reassuring as possible.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispers. “No one can hurt you here.”

“Y-Yoosung,” he chokes out, and Yoosung feels his heart jump. “D-don’t leave me. Everyone l-leaves me.”

“I won’t,” Yoosung promises. “I won’t leave you.”

Saeran’s shaking lessens, but only slightly. Yoosung holds him tightly, stroking his hand through his hair and trying to keep his own breathing steady so Saeran can match it. They sit there for what could have been seconds or minutes or hours before Yoosung feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I can help him.”

Yoosung turns to see… Saeran? Wait, no, this is his twin. The one with the glasses. Yoosung blinks up at him in confusion.

“He’s crying,” Yoosung says stupidly. Saeran’s twin nods.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He shuffles around Yoosung in the cramped bathroom stall and drops to his knees next to him. “Saeran. Hey, Saeran, it’s Saeyoung. You’re safe. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

Wait, this is a regular thing? Does Saeran have a lot of breakdowns like this? Maybe Yoosung read him all wrong.

“S-Saeyoung?” Saeran stammers. “She w-won’t give me water.”

“We’re not there anymore,” Saeyoung whispers, leaning closer and resting his cheek against Saeran’s shoulder. “We got out, remember? I took you with me.”

“You l-left me.”

“Only for a day, and then I came back. I took you with me. We’re happy now,” Saeyoung whispers the words as though he’s said them a million times before. Perhaps he has. “You’re safe. We’re both safe. I took you with me. I’ll always take you with me.”

“Safe…” Saeran repeats the word slowly, as though considering whether to believe it. “We’re safe.”

“We are. And… your friend is here, too.” Saeyoung glances at Yoosung.

“Right, yeah. I’m here.”

“Yoosung,” Saeran breathes, and suddenly he’s clutching hold of him as though his life depends on it. “Yoosung’s here.”

“I am,” Yoosung whispers, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “And I’ll never leave you.”

Saeran doesn’t speak after that, and eventually Saeyoung tells him it would probably be best if he left so Saeran doesn’t come around with any kind of audience. Yoosung asks who ‘she’ is, but Saeyoung refuses to tell him. Yoosung doesn’t want to leave, but he also doesn’t want Saeran to feel self-conscious.

There’s no way Yoosung can go back to class after that, and luckily it seems to have ended anyway.

As it turns out, he missed two classes and no one seemed to come looking for him. Is that a good or bad sign? When he reaches his biology classroom to retrieve his bag he looks as apologetic as he can, but Mr Park doesn’t seem angry at all.

“You’re not in trouble, Mr Kim,” he says, gesturing to his bag. “Saeyoung Choi texted a friend who informed me of the situation with his brother.”

“I… I didn’t know he got like that,” Yoosung mumbled, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“The Choi twins have a difficult past. I’m not at liberty to tell you, but all I can say is that it’s fortunate they have a friend like you.”

Yoosung feels strangely proud of that. Maybe he can be a force for good in Saeran’s life. He’s definitely planning on keeping his promise and not leaving him, which means he’ll need to face his fears and admit to himself that… his feelings go deeper than he first thought.

Now he just needs to tell Saeran that.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung has a plan.

The next day at lunchtime he skips tennis practice so he can search for Saeran, but he has no idea where he could be. He’s not in his usual spot next to the sports barn. The only other place he can think of is…

The Virgin Mary.

Yoosung walks there, feeling like the world is weighing down on his shoulders. Does Saeran even want him there? Did he mean what he said about never wanting Yoosung to leave him?

Yoosung finds him sitting on the floor in front of the Virgin Mary, legs crossed and eyes closed.

“Saeran,” Yoosung whispers softly. Saeran doesn’t open his eyes or visibly react at all.

“You found me.”

Yoosung swallows and walks over to him.

“You were hiding?” he asks quietly. Saeran opens his eyes, looking up at the face of Mary.

“I’m ashamed,” he admits, his voice so small and childlike it makes Yoosung’s heart clench. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“It’s okay,” Yoosung reassures him, sitting down beside him. There’s a moment of silence. It’s not uncomfortable but Yoosung has so much he needs to say. “I’m sorry,” he begins. “I… I just want to help you.”

“You know, some Catholics don’t consider homosexuality a sin,” Saeran says, his voice smooth and calming.

“They don’t?”

“No, they don’t. I found out when I was figuring myself out.”

That’s… interesting. Yoosung will need to look into that more. He’s about to speak again, but Saeran interrupts with a sigh.

“Have you heard of PTSD?” he asks. Yoosung nods.

“Yeah. I don’t know much about it, though. I know soldiers get it.”

“It stands for post-traumatic stress disorder,” Saeran explains, eyes still glued to Mary’s face. “And yeah, lots of soldiers have it, but they aren’t the only ones.” He draws in a deep breath. “I have it.”

“You do?” Yoosung says in surprise. That must mean Saeran’s been through some kind of traumatic experience.

“Yeah. Because of my mother.” Saeran swallows, and there’s a long pause but he doesn’t seem to be waiting for Yoosung to reply. It looks like he’s gathering his thoughts. “She used to hit me. And yell at me and starve me and burn me and tie me up.” Yoosung feels his mouth open slightly in horror. How could a mother do that to her own child? He reaches out and places a hand on Saeran’s. “Sometimes I’d go for days without food. I still have scars around my ankles from how tight the ropes were. Saeyoung and I got out when we were fifteen. But I… I have nightmares and flashbacks, and all I can see is him leaving me alone in that place.” A tear falls down Saeran’s cheek and Yoosung feels his heart break. “So, yeah. I have PTSD. And various other things, but that one’s the worst.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yoosung breathes, but Saeran shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Yoosung bites his lip. He has something about to spill out, and maybe it’s the wrong time but he can’t hold it in much longer.

“You were right,” he blurts out. “About… me having feelings for you. You were right.”

His face immediately starts burning and he’s certain Saeran can feel his sweaty palm resting on his hand right now, but suddenly it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. A huge, crushing weight that he didn’t even realise he’d been carrying his entire life. He likes boys. He’s always liked boys. The disgust he’s always felt for gay people had been a twisted form of denial that had been trying to repress what was impossible to ignore. The anger he had felt towards Saeran… it was just because he was awakening the side of Yoosung he desperately wanted to pretend didn’t exist.

Yoosung feels a tear rolling down his cheek and he chokes at the relief he feels. “I l-like boys. I like _you_. I’ve always liked you, ever since I first saw you.”

To his surprise, Saeran twists his hand a little so he can lace their fingers together.

“I have feelings for you too,” he says softly. “You weren’t just… some other repressed, Catholic guy I wanted to mess around with.” Yoosung swallows. He feels so conflicted he might explode, but also so happy he could fly. He decides to focus on the happiness.

“I’m sorry I was so rude to you,” he whispers.

“It’s fine. I don’t blame you. I’m an insufferable dick sometimes.”

Yoosung laughs, and soon Saeran joins in too, and everything feels right with the world. Maybe Saeran’s right and homosexuality isn’t a sin. Maybe he’s drawn to Saeran because it’s the right thing to feel.

It’ll take some getting used to, but he has to try and accept it.

“So what does this mean for us?” Yoosung asks.

“What do you want it to mean?”

Yoosung presses his lips together in thought. He already knows the answer, but he’s still scared to say it.

“I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too,” Saeran says with a soft smile unlike any of the cocky smirks and grins from before. This is genuine.

“And… I want to kiss you more.”

Saeran turns to look at him and Yoosung does the same.

“Then kiss me.”

Yoosung’s eyes drop to Saeran’s lips and he leans forwards slowly, hesitating for a split second before their lips touch. Saeran closes the rest of the distance, and they’re kissing again, only this time it’s not rough or angry or desperate. It’s calm and peaceful but every bit as exciting. Yoosung could get lost in this feeling forever.

Eventually they pull out of the kiss, breathing just as heavily as the other times.

“I like you,” Saeran breathes.

“I like you, too,” Yoosung whispers back, and they both laugh softly.

It’s a damn sight better than hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3


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